


(coda - season finale) Of White Rooms, Dreams and Monty's Head

by EMR2



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coda, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Requited Love, Season Finale, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EMR2/pseuds/EMR2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has spent weeks in the quarantine wing of Mount Weather, with only Van Gogh and Monty to distract her from her nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(coda - season finale) Of White Rooms, Dreams and Monty's Head

**Author's Note:**

> First in this fandom so hello *waving friendly* starting mildly even though I have some porn stewing away...(that's another story)  
> My exploration of the season finale which I thought was tres clever especially since there is NO WAY in HELL that Bellamy's dead (he had his own episode of backstory people, that's cash invested right there), and I think it's highly unlikely that Finn's dead either because he's set up to be an excellent c-block (="Duncan" for any Veronica Mars fans out there) for Bellamy. Likewise with Raven who is awesome despite all the conflict but she has very little space in this story. This seems like it might be Flarke, but it's really, truly Bellarke, I'm just making sense of the finale as best I can. 
> 
> I apologize, unbetaed because I'm a lazy slob by nature. Expect flexible verb tenses, typos, extra words and general run on sentences.
> 
> I own nothing (no not even this story but it's fun to play)

(coda) Season 1 Finale: 

Clarke knew that between her and Monty, she was the needy one. She knew this because she spent an inordinate amount of time staring at his door. Even though, through miming and signing they’d both decided they would meet at their respective windows every day after lunch, she still was there more. She couldn’t help it. She would watch eagerly, happy to see some sort of activity, whether it was the top of his head as he paced the room or his daily work-out (and yeah, she should totally start doing that, but she preferred to watch Monty, which might be considered creepy, she could admit that). 

What could she say? She was a child of the Arc, and she was accustomed to having people around her always. Unlike Monty, who was accustomed to sneaking into quiet spaces to do his experiments, Clarke was a social creature. This bright white room, with it’s antiseptic interior might’ve been an answer to a childhood dream (in another life) but for now, it was like the 9th circle of hell, where all she there was to do was stare at a famous painting that she’d been told was a masterpiece, (though really, after the first week, she’d already broken it down brush stroke by brush stroke and it felt like the genius was slowly unravelling…like her mind). Monty’s face, and the mouthed words that she was increasingly good at reading were her saving grace. A chance to distract her from her thoughts, a chance to pull her back from the edge, from the spiral that the white walls just seemed to encourage. 

“Are you sure it was the Arc?” he mouthed. She nodded quickly. There was a flash of joy and hope, then he made a wry face. 

“They don’t know we’re here, do they?” He mouthed again. She shook her head. There was another flicker in those expressive eyes, but this time it was clearly disappointment, sadness and resignation. Monty wore his emotions on his face, something she’d never noticed before - never had time to notice (she ignored the little voice inside her head that said she’d never cared enough to notice). She couldn’t help but wonder if the Blake family had some Asian blood somewhere, because even though Octavia’s eyes were blue, they clearly telegraphed every thought in her head and Bellamy …she stopped herself abruptly. Don’t think of him - that way lies madness. Don’t think of him.

“We should come up with a plan,” Monty’s ever present optimism didn’t fail him for long. Clarke gave him a grateful, if rueful smile. 

“I don’t know,” she said out loud, even though Monty couldn’t hear it but unable to deny herself the small comfort of her own voice, “there’s not much here.”

“Nothing here, either” Monty mouthed. “If Raven were here - “ He smiled sadly. Clarke had realized about a week ago that he had nurtured a little crush on the brilliant mechanic. They would’ve been a great couple, she thought to herself, if only Raven could let Finn go (she ignored the niggling little voice that said that might be a little self-serving on her part) She focused again on the brilliant chemist.

“You don’t know that she isn’t, Monty.” Clarke smiled through the door. He shrugged back at her. “Finn’s probably here too.” He mouthed reassuringly.  
No, no he’s not - Clarke thought to herself - he’s in the ashes around the drop ship. She should know. She’d done it to him. 

Brave Finn, noble Finn, handsome Finn who had been safe with her in the drop ship. He’d offered her the world, twice and she’d rejected him, only to finally agree on that last day when he stood there, with his heart in his eyes, his hands still stained from Raven’s blood. He’d been so caring - loving to her, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” She’d whispered, and he’d smiled a hopeful, if slightly disbelieving smile. “You won’t” he’d promised fervently. This was their great reconciliation and it lasted a grand total of 2 minutes until she’d realized - until she’d figured out…Bellamy was trapped outside of the drop ship and they were about to ignite the rockets. 

She’d lost her mind for a moment and demanded they open the door. Then when she’d spotted him, bravely stepping forward to battle the Grounders - even though he was clearly terrified - she couldn’t help it. 

“Bellamy!” she’d shouted in terror and panic and she couldn’t prevent herself from moving forward. He turned around quickly, his dark eyes flashing a warning, and then Finn’s hand was restraining her. “They’re killing him!” She yelled at Finn, and he flinched, realization in his eyes. 

He nodded. “Okay.” And he’d sprung out of the drop ship - like one of the superheroes in the comic books Wells used to love. She watched as long as she could until Miller pulled her back and forcibly closed the door. Her last views of Finn and Bellamy was Finn running to the rescue and Bellamy narrowly avoiding the ax of the large Grounder that had him trapped.

When the door of the drop ship opened, she rushed out blindly, her feet taking her to the place she’d last seen Bellamy. There were the remnants of two skeletons there, one on the ground frozen in mid-defense and the other crumpled over him, clearly caught mid-battle. It was only after a minute or two that her numbed-out mind remembered Finn, poor brave Finn who could’ve remained safe in the drop-ship with her. 

Bellamy had confided to her once, that he was a “monster.” Well, what was she when she killed another man to save him? Not just any man, but the man she claimed to love?

Monty nodded over to her. “I bet Bellamy has a plan - “ Clarke felt her face freeze in a sort of grim smile. She hadn’t been able to tell him what happened on that last day - she didn’t want to do anything that might destroy some of that precious hope. He suddenly grinned at her. “He’s gonna be so pissed that you got caught, Clarke! He doesn’t like anybody messing with the Princess!” he laughed and Clarke smiled back, thankful for the glass and metal that helped her hide the truth from him. That Bellamy’s bravery and strength was buried in an lump of grayish black ash around the drop ship. 

Suddenly afraid that she was going to start crying again, she mimed a yawn, and though Monty looked surprised he nodded and moved away from the window. Their sleep schedule was screwed up anyway, with no way to tell if it was dark or if it was light. They slept when the felt like it, the only established schedule was the food platters that were delivered through a slot in the door. 

Clark stretched out on the hard hospital bed and willed herself to sleep. She tossed and turned for a couple of hours and then she went down deep, as she always did. Nothing disturbed her until…

“Princess,” the word was like a tease, a light breeze tickling her ear as someone leaned indecently close to her. “Come on Princess, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” The perpetrator smirked as she turned and threw her pillow at him. 

“Seriously? What does that even mean, Bell?” She grumpily wiped her hair out of her eyes as he chuckled.

“I don’t know exactly, it was something my Mom used to say, but I think it means move your ass, Griffin we have work to do.” Bellamy lounged beside her on the uncomfortable bed, wearing a white t-shirt and long white pants.

“We’re in quarantine, Smart Ass, what is there to do?” She groused, still irritated. 

“We need to save the 100.” He shrugged as he hopped up and started to tap around the walls. 

“What are you doing?” She didn’t want to move, she wanted to stay back in bed where she could still feel the warmth from his body.

“Well, sleepyhead, I’m trying to find an exit. One of us has to get us out of here. Especially if you’re gonna spend all your time lounging in bed.” He winked at her smugly and she felt a clawing tightness in her chest. 

“Stop it.” She could barely get the words out as she watched him, with his bright smile and natural grace, alive and well, and strong and 23…not burned ashes around the drop ship.  
“Bellamy stop it, please” she rasped, as hot tears began to well up in her eyes. 

“Awwww, Princess….whatsamatter? Can’t take the heat? You wanted to lead.” his warm dark eyes were now harsh and cold. “A leader has to be able to make the hard decisions, Clarke, didn’t I tell you that? I warned you but no - you wanted a seat at the top table, like you’ve always had - well, it doesn’t come cheap, does it?” 

“Bellamy, I’m so sorry, I killed you -“ He shook his head abruptly, all former warmth gone.  
“I knew what I was in for, Princess - “

She was weeping uncontrollably now. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” He crossed his arms and watched her breakdown with interest. 

“You know what’s funny? You apologize every night for killing me, but you never apologize to Finn. Isn’t that right Finn?” He nods to the corner behind her and Clarke turns back to see Finn with a sad but accepting expression on his face.

“I mean, if you killed anyone, it was him. The guy who loved you and decided to prove it by saving me, for you.” Bellamy walked over to stand side by side with Finn, both with reproachful faces.

“You don’t have to apologize Clarke. I chose to help.” Finn shrugged. 

“What about her pretending to love you?” Bellamy prompted. “That wasn’t cool, man - totally manipulative.”

“I didn’t pretend anything,” Clarke objected strongly. 

“Oh yes you did, Princess. Yes you did.” Bellamy leaned forward, his eyes flashing mercilessly, furiously. “You pretended that you and I were nothing. That your little crush on Finn was the great love of your life.

“I didn’t pretend anything - “ 

“I don’t think you realized you were doing it.” Finn volunteered kindly. “I don’t even think you realized what you felt. When you saw him out there, your face - well, I knew immediately.”

Clarke wanted to ignore the truth in his voice.

“”Finn, I cared about you. I really did.” She was stricken by the idea that he’d died thinking she’d loved someone else.

“I know you did - but you loved Bellamy more.” He shrugged. Bellamy hadn’t moved, his eyes dark and hard, his arms crossed as he stared her down. He looked like he hated her. Finn caught the look and shook his head at the other man, which oddly enough did the trick. Bellamy went from implacable warrior to broken. He had the same look on his face that he’d had when he’d pleaded for Dax to kill him, or the look she’d spotted when he he’d faced off against the Grounders on that final day. 

“If anything Clarke,” Finn leaned closer and placed a hand on her arm - oddly enough - unlike Bellamy’s ghost, she didn’t feel it. “Maybe you should apologize to Bellamy for not knowing your own heart.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous - “ Clarke shook her head. 

“Think about it - “ Finn nodded toward his former nemesis. “You didn’t only deprive yourself. You should admit it, and then we can rest.” She met Bellamy’s gaze and was startled to see he was shattered.

“It was supposed to be you and me, Clarke” he said quietly. 

“No!” she cried out, “it’s not true. No, I don’t love you! I don’t! I don’t love you, Bellamy! I don’t!” 

Suddenly a rough hand was shaking her awake. She started as that same hand clamped down, warm, sweaty and slightly dirty, over her mouth. She could taste the salt and woodsmoke and part of her felt a twinge of recognition, of familiarity but she couldn’t believe it.

“Shhhhh!” A familiar dark figure, in tattered, filthy clothes, with a rifle over his shoulder and a knife in his belt leaned over her. “Much as I would love to hear more, Princess” Bellamy grimaced at her - “we have approximately 2 minutes before the monitoring system kicks back in. 

Clarke felt her eyes tear up. 

“You’re dead” she muttered into his palm. He grinned and winked at her, the familiar freckles highlighted by the fluorescent lighting. “Yeah, well - rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” He helped her sit up and then he slid a pair of soft leather boots on her bare feet and laced them up. Clarke vaguely remembered that the Indigenous people of North America called them “moccasins”. She looked at him, confused. He shrugged. 

“Lincoln said you’d need them. Now come on, Clarke, we have to get as many as we can. Finn is getting Monty and Raven’s grabbing Miller, but if we can get more…”

“What..wait - am I dreaming?” Clarke couldn’t believe it. She reached out again, felt the warmth of his sweater, his jacket, the soft curls, the slight rasp of his beard. “How?” 

“Long story.” He winked again, and all of sudden she couldn’t help it, she hugged him tightly, her arms in a stranglehold around his neck, her legs hooking him around the waist bringing him tightly to her. She didn’t know what it was, she just had to feel him, all of him, with her - ALIVE. 

She could tell she’d shocked him, by the rigidity of the body against her, but she didn’t care. She needed to know Bellamy was real, still warm and present on the planet. He let out a shaky sigh and his whole body trembled, and he gently pulled her arms from him. 

“We’ve gotta have a talk - but we can’t have it here. I need you to grab your blanket and anything else you think we can use and come on. We’ve got our people to save.” He was gentle as he spoke to her, and almost shy. Clarke smiled beatifically. 

“Lay on MacDuff!” She hopped off the table and grabbed all the necessaries. Bellamy smirked and held open the door.

“Shakespeare, huh?” 

She shrugged as she strutted past. “Yeah so?”

“Well, what you said while you were dreaming..”

Clarke blushed with mortification, (I don’t love you, Bellamy!) “So?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

Clarke glared over her shoulder. Typical he wouldn’t play fair, they weren’t even out of Mount Weather yet. A siren went off suddenly. 

“I think we should run, now, don’t you?” Clarke gave him her most pointed glare. He saluted. 

“Yes ma’am!”

They raced down the corridor to meet up with their people.

END


End file.
